Three Brothers
by CelloRaptor
Summary: Mages from Kuja's army awoke, so why not the three that Zorn and Thorn created? Of course, when one only exists to kill, there's going to be some social barriers that the Waltzes may run into. Fairly serious fic despite my silly summary.
1. Too Warm

Disclaimer: I no own-y, you no sue-y

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Author's Note: Hello there. The artist formally known as NeoNaoNeo here. I'm repeating this because I'm sure he'd rather read a good FF9 fic than an Invader Zim one...I changed my name because a madman from Liverpool has stolen my name on several websites. I figure it's better to relenquish the name than to fight against him at every turn...YOU HEAR ME! YOU WIN! ((begins sobbing))

Anyhoo, though I did start my first Invader Zim in a long time, my day off spent playing FF9 finally prompted me to start this new fic. I also went back and re-read my very first fan fic, Malevolence's Waltz. Makes me want to rewrite it all, but at the same, that's the blessings of progress. Looking back and seeing how you started. Well, five years later I proudly present to you all "Three Brothers!".

~SkarredMory

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Three Brothers

Chapter One: Too Warm

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Drip drip....

Splashes and drips echoed throughout the thawing cavern, the creature that had created the blizzard now laying in a pathetic heap, barely able to hang onto his life as the new waterfall bombarded him from above. His clothes soaked and blood stained, the waltz struggled to open his eyes, clutching desperately to the rock that held him above the water's hungry surface. His body felt paralyzed beneath the rushing rapids, the crash of it causing his head to pound. His recent defeat left him in a disasterous state of mind; confused, frightened and dazed. But one thing was certain, he had to move to save himself. Focusing his mind on the seemingly simple task of swimming, the waltz pushed himself from the rock and was pulled down by the current. After a few moments of thrashing, the waltz floated up to the surface gasping for air. 'Have to get....to shore....'

His mind focused solely on this task, the mage was able to propel himself towards the rocky shelf that led to the exit of the cavern. Pulling himself out of the water proved to be a much harder task than swimming, his clothes and feathers completely soaked. Drained of all energies, magical and physical, he collapsed in a heap and slipped into unconsciousness.

"Mortimer, get up!"

"Huh..?"

The waltz found himself laying on his back in a snowdrift, the winter ridden town of Alexandria his surroundings. Before he could get another word out, the girl who had called to him whipped a snowball in his direction. He lifted a wing to defend himself, but the snowball whizzed past harmlessly, missing its target. The girl laughed and hugged her cerulean garments closer, curly black hair covered in snow. "You won't be so lucky next time Mort!" she called, running across the road as she began to make another snowball. Though the woman was young, the mage could almost sense her maternal and protective personality, as though remembering her from long ago.

The waltz went to sit up and the scene disappeared around him, revealing that he was truly alone in the night darkened cavern. It all seemed so real, why was he here now?

Black Waltz One stood, now rested and recovered from the battle he had fought, though very bewildered by the dream he had just awoken from. Had it simply been a dream? He couldn't recall having such a vivid dream before, nor really dreaming much of anything. "Best not to worry about it..." he murmured to himself as he began the ascent up the rocky hill and out of the cavern's exit, his gaze falling on the slumbering town of Dali. It looked like a good enough place to stay the night. It would give him the chance to sort out his racing thoughts and plan his next move.

It seemed like a good enough plan, simple and straightforward. However, the waltz didn't have the slightest idea on what he was walking into. Pushing the door to the inn open, the keeper snorted awake at his desk, staring at the winged mage with a bewildered look on his face. "Th-this is an Inn, right?" the waltz asked, turning to double check that he had walked into the right building. By the look the innkeeper was giving him, the mage was afraid that he had intruded into someone's home.

"Y-yeah...just you?" the innkeeper asked and rummaged around for his guestbook, opening it on the desk.

"Just me," he confirmed.

"Um, name and signature...." the innkeeper asked, pushing a quill and inkwell towards his newest guest. The waltz hesitated a moment, but took the quill in his hand, jotting down his name. "....Mortimer? Don't get many Mortimers around here."

"Heh, yeah," the waltz chuckled, paying the innkeeper the fee.

"Rooms are through there." he said and pointed, closing up his book and settling back down on the desk.

"Thank you," he replied and went in, closing the doors behind him. He gave a small sigh, shaking his head. Why had he done that? He was always referred to as One, he knew his number was One...so why did that name have such signifigance? "....a new name for a new beginning."

He plopped down into the bed and closed his eyes, trying to remember how he had gotten there, who had called him One before and why he thought of it as his number...the last thing the waltz could remember was fighting...boy with a tail...pain...then darkness. Nothing before that.

Mortimer tried to calm his mind down, but the uneasiness of remembering nothing continuously loomed on his conscious no matter how much he tried to sleep. It seemed that rest was finally was within his reach until the door flew open, two men stomping into the room. "Wha---?"

"You're coming with us!" one of them ordered, swinging a hard, bean-bag like weapon over Mortimer's head, causing everything to go black once again.

oOoOoOOoOoOOOo

"Not again...." Mortimer mumbled to himself upon awaking, mentally cursing himself for getting knocked out again, knowing such blows couldn't be good for his mental health. Realizing that he eyes were open and his surroundings were still completely pitch black struck a sort of panic in his mind, only reinforced by the fact he couldn't move more than six inches or so. It was like his was trapped in some sort of box... "Help! Somebody please!"

"Is someone there?" another voice called back, quite a bit higher than the other men's, sounding much sharper and more snappy. Mortimer contemplated whether he was better off in the box and hidden or at the mercy of this new stranger. Deciding on the stranger, Mortimer replied.

"Here! I'm in a box, I think!" Mortimer called, hoping the stranger would get an idea of his direction.

"Don't stop talking, I can't find you if you're quiet!" the stranger ordered, the sound of footsteps getting closer.

"Wh-what should I talk about?" Mortimer asked innocently, not knowing what the stranger expected of him.

"Anything! Sing the Linblum National Anthem for all I care! ....what's your name?"

"Mortimer, m-my name's Mortimer."

"Uh-huh, and how'd you get here?"

"I don't know."

"Got it! Hold still!"

Mortimer couldn't help but cringe when the stranger pried the lid off of his containment area, the sudden flood of light causing him to squint. Mortimer didn't even turn to examine his rescuer until he checked himself and his surroundings. Boxes piled up in every corner, it seemed to be a storage facility of some sort, though the roots and moist smell told him that they were underground. In the distance he could hear the occasional 'kweh' of a chocobo and the constant hum and churning of machinary.

"Thank y---" Mortimer began, finally facing the stranger. They both seemed to be fascinated with one another, two waltzes seeing another of their own kind for the first time.

The stranger was much taller than he was, more...well crafted was a was to put it. The other waltz seemed to made for stealth and speed, his wings small and compact and figure lithe and thin. His robes however seemed to defy this logic of practicality, having billowing sleeves with ornate patterns and designs. Even his hat seemed ridiculous, adorned with two horn-like protrusions.

Not like Mortimer was much to look at. He was short and muscular, built like an A Type mage, though various events throughout his life had left him physically crippled. Though his back was hunched, he was still able to fly properly, much better than he could walk or run. Even his left hand would fail him most of the time, only good for ringing the bell that hung around his wrist. His robes were much simpler; a red overcoat and grey pants, a snowflake design stitched over each knee. The second waltz examined Mortimer for a few seconds before finally stating, "You're one of those rejects that they recycle, aren't you?"

"Reject?" Mortimer asked, quirking an eyebrow. "R-recycle?"

"Ah, nevermind," the taller waltz muttered, shaking his head. "If you know what's good for you, you'll follow me and don't fall behind, got it?"

"Got it," Mortimer replied with a nod. The other led the way through the network of storage rooms, past the row of strange machines that continued churning despite the fact no raw materials were being fed in and nothing was being produced. "What is all this?"

"Beats me," the taller waltz replied, peeking his head around the corner before signalling Mortimer to come forward. Though they were out of the storage facility, neither one of them seemed comfortable with setting up camp for the night. "You better be able to fly."

"What?" Mortimer asked and looked up, only to see his new companion talking flight. Mortimer quickly flapped after the other mage, both of them staying fairly low, as though afraid to be spotted. Finally, the taller waltz came in for a landing, the village of Dali far behind them, a peaceful pond and lightly wooded area before them.

"We'll rest here." the new waltz said, plopping down near a tree.

"O-okay," Mortimer agreed, sitting beside his rescuer. "What's your name?"

"...Two," the other waltz replied.

"Oh...don't you have a name besides your number?" Mortimer asked. Two didn't seem pleased by the question, but shook his head.

"Never picked one out," Two said, leaning against the tree. "How'd you come up with Mortimer?"

"...I don't know," he lied. "But I can help you pick one out!"

"...shoot." Two said, allowing his new travelling companion to proceed. Mortimer began examining their surroundings, Two and what he was doing.

"Um...Leaf?" Mortimer shrugged.

"Try another one," Two said, picking up a fallen branch.

"Draco? Libra? Orion?" Mortimer suggested, looking up at the constellations. He didn't know where he had learned their names from, but each suggestion was sequentially shot down.

"Too overused, too girly, too old."

"Frog?" Mortimer said, watching one hop by.

"Same category as Leaf." Two muttered. Mortimer decided to make it a bit more personal, examining Two.

"Um...Horn-y?" Mortimer said, his gaze set on Two's unusual hat.

"No. Just...no," Two declined, starting to use his claws to scratch the bark off the stick he had picked up.

"How about Talon?" Mortimer suggested. Two was silent for a few moments before nodding.

"I like that one." Two replied with a nod. It wasn't overbearing or fake...it seemed to fit him very well.

"So I'll call you Talon from now on." Mortimer confirmed, the other black waltz giving him a nod.

"Sounds good," Talon replied, a smile lit in his eyes.

Though they had just met, Mortimer had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

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	2. Thin Ice

Disclaimer: I no own, you no sue.

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Author's Note: I'm glad my long time role-playing buddy probably won't read this fic seeing as I stole the 'Horn-y' joke out of one of our epic FF9 crossover with anything that tickled our fancy. It was four years of pure madness I tell you. But fun madness. Three met Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, there was hand sex, Dr. Who discovered the origins of Bitey of Brackenwood, and there were several incidents involving black mages, nymphs and demi-gods. I'm already trying to pick apart and make a specific plot twist into a fan fic featuring 288, simply because I don't think there's enough of them out there.

But enough about future endeavors, on with the present, eh? Anime Central 2009 is upon us, so if you're in the Chicago area and attending, look us up! We have a table in Artist's Alley under Cello Raptor Studios, so yay!

~CelloRaptor

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Chapter 2: Thin Ice

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Mortimer's sleep was peaceful and undisturbed, completely at ease resting amongst the roots of the short and stout tree that provided the canopy above them. It wasn't until the sound of splashing intruded upon the quiet soundtrack did Mortimer realize that it was morning, his eyes remaining half lidded as he sat up and stretched. Taking a moment to ruffle up and straighten his feathers, the waltz stood and raised his arms over his head in another stretch. Mortimer smacked his lips after a final yawn and began to survey the surrounding area in search of his newly found travelling companion.

'He's probably taking a bath,' Mortimer reasoned, not knowing what else could be making that much noise in the nearby pond. And although his better instinct told him to find something to do until Talon came and found him, Mortimer decided to make sure that it was Talon making the noise, sneaking through the foliage and brush quietly. 'Just a peek, that way I know where he is.'

As Mortimer pushed the last curtain of cattails out of his field of view, his quick peek became a fascinated stare, the sight before him not quite adding up. The flash of azure and gold from Talon's wings let Mortimer know that it was the same person that had rescued him the night before, dipping and fluffing 'his' wings like an exotic songbird enjoying a stone bird bath. Talon's hair was oddly long, the flame red curls came down just past his lower back. Also, Talon's form was much too curvy to seem right and it wasn't until 'he' turned around that Mortimer realized---

Their eyes locked momentarily, Talon making a noise like a growling cat and teleporting out of Mortimer's field of view, the first waltz fumbling out an apology as he searched helplessly around him for the other, falling into the water in the process. The first waltz made an attempt to get up, but the force of Talon's foot to his back caused him to fall forward again. Pressing his hands against the muddy bottom, Mortimer desperately realized that Talon's foot was still on his back, making the task of coming up for air impossible. Panicked, Mortimer began to thrash and flap his wings, Talon's foot holding strong. His struggling growing weaker, the sudden pain of the other waltz's claws grabbing him up by his scruff and flipping him back onto shore with an extrordinary force snapping him back into reality, his whole body trembling from fear.

"Give me one reason not to kill you," Talon snarled. Without the hat, Mortimer could tell simply by the shape of Talon's face that he was indeed a she, as though what he had seen before left any question in his mind. He didn't seem to notice it before while she was bathing that the horns were upon her head and weren't apart of her hat, but now that she was without it, he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before.

"You're beautiful," Mortimer replied weakly, still shaky from the near drowning experience. Talon jumped at his response, giving the first waltz plenty of room to get up and take in a breath of air. He turned his gaze up to the other, notcing that her cheeks were blushing, giving her face a silver paling in the cheeks. "...what's wrong?"

"You---! I---GR!" Talon ended her statement with a growl as she punched the nearest tree, her wet locks flying over her shoulder, feathers standing on end.

"Why don't you leave your hair down?" Mortimer asked innocently, not understanding why she was so upset by what he had said before. Talon took in a breath to calm herself down, looking up at her travelling companion.

'Is he really that dense?' she asked herself, narrowing her eyes and beginning to tie her hair up into a tight bun. She had never been called 'beautiful' before, and her natural distrustful disposition made her question the other waltz's intentions. 'Does he really mean it?'

"Because, it gets in the way." she replied shortly, picking her hat up out of the reeds and fitting her horns through the two holes on either side of the hat, turning to face the other mage. "Why does it matter to you anyways?"

"I...it reminds me of someone I used to know," Mortimer said. "I think."

"Right," Talon said, adjusting her hat one last time as she began to walk. It took Mortimer a moment to realize that he was getting left behind, the cripple mage hopping into action and scuttling behind his taller counterpart.

"So, you're not going to try to kill me again?" Mortimer asked, trying to keep his dragging pace up to the confident stride of Talon's.

"Not at the moment," Talon said, her tone somber and pensive. Mortimer gave an inward sigh of relief.

"Where are we going?" Mortimer asked between breaths, his right leg beginning to cramp up despite his best efforts to ignore it.

"Lindblum," Talon replied, stopping at the edge of the cliff that the small village and surrounding lands were perched up. She gazed into the distance, spreading her wings slightly in the warm breeze.

"What's in Lindblum?" Mortimer asked, standing at Talon's side and looking down the sheer rock surface, the sound of a gulp escaping his throat.

"The Princess," Talon replied shortly, crossing her arms.

"Princess?" Mortimer said. Of course he knew what a princess was, even who the princess of Alexandria was, but why did it matter? How did Talon know she was in Lindblum and why was it important? "Are we going to visit her?"

"Not quite," Talon replied, turning away from the cliff and looking Mortimer over skeptically. "Are you going to be okay flying over this?"

"...I..I don't know," Mortimer admitted, shaking his head. He had flown over short distances, but never too high up or for too long. "I don't think so."

"Well, I have a job to do, so keep up with me if you can," Talon said shortly, leaping into the sky and spreading her wings, her short wingstrokes catching the afternoon air and keeping her aloft in the most natural way possible. Mortimer gaped a moment, surprised by her sudden departure. He wasn't going to be left alone just like that! Though doubts rose in his mind, Mortimer took a running start and jumped into a take off, though wasn't nearly as graceful as Talon. His first fleeting thoughts were of his muscles giving out and him plummeting to the ground, but being high above made things easier than simply taking off and staying low to the ground. Without thought, his feathers and wings made the tiny adjustments necessary to keep a glide, dipping when pressured by the surface of a rising thermal. He noticed that Talon was laboring much more than himself; she would beat her wings several times and glide, descending much more quickly than he was, but would beat her wings again to regain her lost altitude.

The pair flew in silence, Mortimer mentally cheering himself on for being able to hold up as well as he did. Time seemed to stand still as they dipped and glided, flapped and flitted, the city within the castle coming into sight. Black smoke billowed from the city's main airship gate, but the pair descended well before then, coming in for a landing at the walk-in gate near the bottom. Talon gave a sigh and looked down at Mortimer, a sly grin apparent in her eyes. "Glad you made it," she commented and tugged down the brim of her hat, leading the way through the gate.

"I've never flown so far in my life!" Mortimer said, exhilirated.

"We started off at a pretty high point, I figured you'd be able to glide most of the way here," Talon replied with a chuckle.

"So you weren't trying to get rid of me?" Mortimer asked, his eyes meeting with the gaurds momentarily as they walked through the iron wrought gateway into the city.

"I wouldn't go that far," Talon replied and crossed her arms over her chest, standing at the center of the plaza. Mortimer blinked and peered around, taking in the wholly new sight of the city, the crowds, the bustle and the activity. Talon gave a slight glance to her counterpart, red eyes portraying a crooked grin. "You're acting like you've never been in a city before."

"Not one this big!" Mortimer claimed, his own yellow eyes wide with amazement. Lindblum was an impressive sight to begin with, but add in the fact that people were coming in from all over Gaia to participate in the Festival of the Hunt, vendors everywhere displaying their finest merchandise and the general chaos of street performers, games and merriment abound. It was almost too much for Mortimer to take in all at once, leaving the waltz in a state of awe. So much so that he hardly noticed that Talon had left him! "H-hey, wait up!"

"Hurry up," she ordered, her step light and quick, easily navigating around the crowds.

"Where are we going now?" Mortimer asked, not quite moving with the same grace, bumping into more than one person on the street.

"Going to grab a bite to eat," Talon replied, leaning against a stone building as a rather large group of men walked out of the local tavern. Once the coast was clear, she stepped through the double doors of the building, Mortimer tagging right along. She didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed by this new addition to her travel party, instinct telling her to be annoyed. She looked up to see that One had already taken a seat at the bar, staring at her rather expectantly. It was kind of cute, like a puppy. But that's all puppies were good for, not for retrieving a princess that's gaurded by a black mage, a knight and a rogue.

But hadn't he been given the same job as she? Zorn and Thorn had told her about her brothers, though they had never met before this moment. Then again, she had assumed Mortimer had been a reject from the Mist machine that had been boxed up to be recycled and reused. He didn't seem concerned at all about the princess. Well, if he became an obstacle, it wasn't as though she would have trouble getting rid of him.

"And what'll you have?" Bobo the bartender asked over the counter, waving his hand in front of Two's face. She really had to stop thinking so much.

"Ah, just your special," Talon replied, hoping it was something edible. She was getting anxious. It had been quite sometime since she had used any magic and always gots antsy. At least it was all going to be over soon. Mission, retrieve the princess, go back to the castle. Simple.

What after that though?

Mortimer was absolutely fascinated with the commotion that was happening outside, his good leg kicking slightly like a bored child. She couldn't drag him back to the castle. Zorn and Thorn were likely to reprogram him to their own selfish desires, from what they had described was a painful process of reconditioning one's mind until it worked the way they wanted it to. Something they often used as a threat when she had shown any ounce of rebellion. That or recylcing him, throwing him into what was scientific equivalent of a black mage mulcher, a machine that broke mages down back into their primary ingredients...she had been incredulous when she had first seen it in the dungeons of the Alexandrian castle, but the clowns were more than willing to give a demonstration with some of her 'dolls', extra black mages that she often used as target practice.

It seemed with every recalled memory, another popped up, making a rather long list of things Talon would rather not expose the other waltz to. The bartender placed a bowl of rather foul looking soup in front of Talon.

"On second thought, I think I'll just have a beer," Talon replied, slipping the bowl to Mortimer, who gladly took the meal. 


End file.
